


One Plea. One Name.

by Bee_Charmer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bee_Charmer/pseuds/Bee_Charmer
Summary: Unable to stop her thoughts, Clarke gives in, letting herself think of Lexa's green eyes and the callused hands Clarke so desperately wants to feel on her body.





	

She couldn’t sleep, too caught up in trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do. Staring at her ceiling from a bed of fur-lined blankets and soft fabric, Clarke let her thoughts drift. 

Lexa brought her here. 

Lexa saved her. 

Clarke knew it. She knew it the moment she saw Lexa’s eyes soften as Clarke held a knife to her throat. 

Lexa had protected her. 

Lexa would continue to protect her.

The familiar ache started to swell in her chest, an ache she only felt when she thought about the beautiful Commander and those damn eyes that only softened for her. Those eyes that Clarke had thought about for so long, had loved, then hated. Then…

She didn’t know how she felt anymore. 

That was a lie. 

She knew. She _felt_. 

Clarke still cared for her, still wanted her, still wanted Lexa to look at her the way she had every time they were alone—as if Clarke was the only one on Earth Lexa would give herself to. 

She wanted Lexa. When they’d kissed, Clarke knew then that she wanted Lexa’s strength, her kindness, her vulnerability. Clarke thought that had changed, thought she no longer wanted it. 

Thought she no longer wanted Lexa. 

She was wrong. 

Clarke wanted her desperately. 

She’d grown painfully aware of that each day she spent so close to Lexa, not touching her… not being touched. 

Clarke wanted to feel her lips again, wanted more of her, wanted to know what it would be like to see those green eyes looking up at her from between her legs. 

Her stomach tightened at the thought. 

Clarke bit her lip, feeling that tightness sink lower as she thought of _everything_ she wanted to know about what Lexa could truly do to her. 

Her hand slid to her stomach, under the fabric of her shirt, up to her chest. Her full breasts ached under her touch, wanting Lexa’s hands, wanting to know how gentle those callused hands could be as they ran over Clarke’s flesh. 

The tightness between her legs turned to throbbing. 

She thought of Lexa’s lips on hers, of how she would run her hands through Lexa’s hair and hold her closer. 

She imagined Lexa’s lips on her throat, teasing the spot under her ear that would make her moan. 

Clarke wondered what it would be like to listen to Lexa, to hear what soft whimpers or rough groans the Commander would utter with Clarke on top of her, with Clarke in her. 

“Fuck.” Clarke’s strained voice filtered into the room as she pushed her legs together, relishing the feeling building at her core. 

She could sense the heat, the wetness, gathering. 

Her hands roved over her body, teasing nipples into harder peaks, trailing a soft touch up the inside of her thigh. 

Her breathing quickened, her body begging her to let her hand wander between her legs. 

She didn’t want her own hand. 

She wanted Lexa’s. 

Wanted to know how Lexa would worship her, wanted to feel Lexa’s long fingers slide into her, deeper and deeper. 

Clarke grabbed onto her sheets as she moved one of her hands lower. 

She could hardly stand it any longer. 

She was wet. 

So, so wet. 

Her core throbbed with desire. 

She gave in. 

She ran her fingers across the wetness between her thighs. 

At that first touch, she bit her lip, holding back the slightest moan. 

With slow circles, she built herself higher and higher, each pass of her hand a step toward the crescendo. 

Clarke slipped a finger inside, pushing her hips into her hand. 

She gasped, thinking of how the muscles in Lexa’s back would shift under her hands as they moved together. 

She pushed deeper. 

Her whole body felt poised to ignite. 

She slid her finger in and out, moving her hips into each thrust. 

Clarke slipped another finger inside herself, unable to stop a moan from crossing her lips. 

She wanted more. 

Wanted the weight of Lexa against her. 

Wanted the taste of Lexa on her lips as she came. 

She curled her fingers. 

Her hips bucked. 

She was close. 

So close. 

Her hand slowed, trying to draw out her pleasure for as long as she could bear it. 

Another moan. 

She pushed deeper, slower, thinking of her moans getting lost in Lexa’s mouth, of Lexa sending her closer and closer to the edge. 

Clarke couldn’t take it. 

Her pace quickened, fingers curled deep inside her with each thrust, the heel of her hand pressed against her clit. 

Her core tightened. 

She thought of Lexa’s soft eyes watching her, of Lexa’s fingers moving inside her, of Lexa’s lithe body between her legs, sinking lower. 

She thought of Lexa’s tongue pressing against her, of Lexa’s fingers pushing deep inside her as her lips tasted Clarke’s wetness. 

Clarke felt the tide surging within her, felt kindling come alight. 

As she came undone, only one breathy plea filled the room. 

“Lexa.”


End file.
